Heroes: Emergence of Humanity
by Forfie
Summary: There are individuals conflicted between moral choices that can be considered inhumane and others that are the epitome of humanity. In the rise of new traits in Heroes, these people will show the best and worst that humanity has to offer.
1. Unique Syndrome

Disclaimer: I do not own the Heroes characters, story lines, or ideas that were originally created by Tim Kring, et al. Any semblance, similar names, or character likeness is directly gathered from the NBC TV show Heroes and associated websites of such. This is not my material and the few items I truly own is the creative license to tell a story.

Heroes: Unique Syndrome

**Dr. Chandra Suresh, Geneticist  
New York City, New York**

_The world has entered a new stage of evolution, a new era that is characterized by a proliferation of abilities that may seem random at first but is a variation that will allow some to adapt and others…not. Darwin first introduced the idea of Natural Selection in his famous text, On The Origin of Species, with new sciences and capabilities Natural Selection seems now to be artificial. One does not always choose the best person to mate, genetically speaking, but the best mate is based on a new factor, that of humanity. The Human Genome project has taught us much about ourselves; where we are, where we have come from and a select few, as my self, look to where we as the human race may be heading. My colleagues have branded me an obsessed, fanatical idealist because of the refusal to drop a theory that indicates the evolutionary imperative. This new stage in human evolution will affect all of us but it is individual events and ideas that will lead to whom and what these individuals will be and do. _

* * *

**Hydrologist Alexander Morova****  
20 miles outside of an International Base Camp, Antarctica **

"Expedition team, this is Base Camp, over," crackled in the hand held walkie-talkie on Drake Spiring's winter jacket. He put the unit in side the insulated hood of his jacket to return the page.

"Base Camp this is Expedition team leader Spiring. What is going on Reena? Over," Drake gave the hand motion to roundup the two other expedition members to his position.

"Drake, there seems to be a change in the barometric pressure, its decreasing. You might want to come back to base before the storm hits," said Reena.

"Alex, you done with collecting your samples?" asked Drake.

"I am vaiting for Robert to come back vith final sample from grid A, 7. Vhat seems to bee the matter, Drake?" asked the Russian member of the international research team that was wrapped in a bright blue expedition wear that to block any skin contact with the elements, "the weather feels…different…you know?"

"How you do that always ceases to amazes me," replied the team leader, "but yes, Reena said there is a storm coming, the barometer seems to have fallen a few degrees."

"Hiya Boy-os, here's your sampling Alex," said Robert Frosting who was wrapped in a bright red wear as he threw a metal cylinder at the Russian.

"_Shuka_," swore the Russian as he fumbled to catch the sample, "vhat is vrong vith you? Damage sample _vould vreck my vork_!"

"Calm down and pack it up boys, we got to ride back to Base Camp," said Drake as he and Robert headed to put the equipment on the snow transport. Soon the team was buckling in and making their way to Base Camp on the marked trail just as the storm started up.

"What's the ETA, Drake," radioed in Reena to the expedition leader.

"You know we need to ask your government for better machines down here then these 10 mile an hour rascals on skates. Thank you, Australia. I say ETA one hour," replied Drake as there was a spluttering and a bang.

"Hold up, Spiring," said Robert Frosting as smoke started leak from the engine into the cabin.

"Shit," exclaimed the team leader, "Double that ETA, Reena, the engine just died."

"You guys better hurry up," replied Base Camp, "I just got word from the Norwegians that this storm is hitting hard and fast, it's white out conditions and negative 35 degrees Celsius not counting the wind which is at 25 knots or so. Might be best to hold up in the snow tracker, yea?"

Drake, Alex and Robert had all gotten out of the cabin because it was filled with black smoke, "not an option, Reena," replied Drake, "we're going to walk it."

"Is there no other vay?" asked Alexander Morova, "storm would be moving to fast and vill over take us."

"Tethered line between and following markers," replied Robert, "but we do not have snow shoes for a 10 mile trek."

"We're going to have to do it boys," replied Drake, "I'll lead, Alex in the middle and Bobby you get back."

They started to tether a line to each other as Drake called it in to Base Camp. They proceeded to follow the markers walking in the direction of base camp leaving the snow vehicle and samples behind. Alex was looking behind at Bobby nervously and none saw on their right hand side a wall approaching. It was white, endless and could easily be overlooked as if it were the rest of the continent. It was the storm and it quickly moved into the path of the expedition team plunging them into a blinding wave of coldness and ice into whiteness.

* * *

**James Walker  
Los Angeles County, California**

_BUZZZZZZ BUZZZZZ BUZZZZZZ_ went the alarm clock that was the night stand table of Mr. and Mrs. Walker. The couple woke up and stretched on the opposite sides of the bed. They started to change into they're work clothing because they were serious people that did not laze about and both had a strong work ethic that was instilled from their parents. They were good neighbors, as described by the enclosed community they lived in, respectable people. Elizabeth Walker was an office executive, James Walker was a foreman for a construction company and they also had a daughter named Molly that was 8 years old.

"Will you go wake up Molly, hun," asked Elizabeth as she straighten her blouse, "and I'll go and get breakfast ready."

"Sure thing, Lizzy," replied James as he walked out of the room and down the hallway to his daughter's room; he opened the door and popped his head in, "morning Molly, dear."

The small, brown haired girl blew several stray strands of her long locks from her face and smiled showing her pink gums at her father. Her eyes were closed as she reached up with her tiny fists and rubbed the sleep from her eyes and replied to the good morning. She hopped out of bed in her pink pajamas, holding to a stuffed white rabbit that James still remembered placing next to her in the crib, and jumped up to hug her dad. James lifted her into the air as he hugged her and then placed her sitting on his shoulder, balancing her with his arm. She placed the rabbit on his bald scalp like a noticeable toupee.

"Do I have to go to school today, daddy," asked Molly with a pout.

James walked into the room and sat down on his daughter's bed, "why do you not want to go to school today, sweetie? You told me the other day that you loved Mrs. Hansen and that the material was easy to understand. Is there a bully?"

"Oh no," said Molly as she got off her dad's shoulder and stood on the bed to look him in the eyes, "I just do not feel well…like going."

James held the back of his hand to Molly's head, the little girl squirmed around not liking this folkish form of temperature taking, "cool as a cucumber," replied the father, "that means you're going."

"But Dad…" whined Molly.

"No buts, sweetie. Go get ready, mom is making breakfast," replied James.

"Is it Pancakes?" asked the little girl in excitement

James sniffed the air, "smells like it."

"PANCAKES!" yelled out Molly as she ran to her closet to get her clothing for the day.

"I'll go check on, mommy," said James as he headed out of the room, "don't forget your backpack."

James headed down stairs to the kitchen, he snuck behind his wife and kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, "How did I get so lucky?"

"After what happened to you in work the other day, I now wonder the same thing," replied his wife as she flipped the pancakes.

"It was a freak accident, nothing more," replied James, "just take it as dumb luck."

Elizabeth put the spatula down in the sink, crossed her arms and turned to her husband, "a detonator went off next to a pile of 4 inch nails sending one in your chest."

"Chest doesn't always mean heart," said James as he looked at the headlines of the newspaper sitting at the kitchen room table, "and I've been accident prone all my life, remember the car accident?"

"Don't even go there, James Benjamin Walker," said his wife, "this is not about some car accident from 10 years ago, this is about what happened last week, you almost died."

"But didn't," replied James, "it is just dumb luck that my heart an lungs are apparently 2 inches further back then what they should be. I count my stars to have such luck but please do not spoil what should be a good day."

"Good day?" questioned the wife in sarcasm.

"Major deal for the construction company is being brokered," replied James, "with me being the senior foreman again. It'll be a long project too, with continuous increasing pay."

"And who is this for, the government?" asked Elizabeth, happy but cautious at the idea of such a project.

"Some company or organization in Las Vegas," replied James as he flipped to the national section of the LA Times letting out a chuckle and sigh as he folded it to an article, "with this guy, Linderman," that featured an hint to the corruption connection between the father of Congressional Candidate of New York, Nathan Petrelli, and the Linderman Group.

Molly came down the stairs wearing a backpack nearly the same size as herself and plopped down at the kitchen table next to her dad, "Pancakes!" she said excitedly.

Elizabeth placed a plate down in front of Molly and kissed on the forehead, "morning, hunny bunny," and then whispered in James' ear, "well talk about this later."

* * *

**Candice Wilmer – Magician's Assistant  
Las Vegas, Nevada**

"Can't you get any of these illusions right anymore?" yelled a frustrated man in a top hat and cloak as he threw a silver ball at a wall.

"Rodney, calm down," replied a woman with short cropped brunette hair that flared out to the sides in a tight fitting sequin dress, "I've been stressed."

"What is it Candice? What could possibly be stressing you out more then me and your inability to perform the simplest of illusions?" said Rodney the magician.

"Besides your attitude?" replied Candice in a huff, "it's…I'm…well…pregnant."

"GREAT!" yelled out Rodney, "just effing great, my assistant gets effing knocked up. You know what this means? Huh? This means I won't be able to have you on stage anymore."

"With out me you'll have no show!" replied Candice.

Rodney reached over an grabbed her arm and looked her in the eye, "who said you would be fired, you whore."

Candice kneed him in the balls and spit on his withering body, "you bastard, never call me that again. Ever since I've been your assistant, there has been only one person I've slept with and that you, you rotten sleazebag," Candice kicked him on the ground, "I've done everything for you and this is how you 'repay your best assistant'. Go fuck your self."

She started to walk away as Rodney yelled out to her but she paid no attention as a pair of jeans and t-shirt seemed to appear on her, the sequin dress now gone.

* * *

**Chandra Suresh  
New York City, New York**

"Where to ma'am," asked the friendly, shiny head bearded cab driver from India.

"A stop in Brooklyn first, then to 215 Reed St.," was all she said as she buckled in the backseat.

"Any street or apartment complex?" asked the driver.

"Let's just get to Brooklyn first, okay," replied the woman.

"So…how's the day going," said the taxi driver trying to spark up a conversation, "ma'am."

"Stop calling me ma'am, please, I'm young enough to be your daughter, Dr. Suresh," said the woman, making Chandra look in the rear view mirror as his occupant, "and the name is Hana, Hana Gitelman."

"Pleased to meet you Miss. Gitelman," replied Chandra, "you seem to know a fair mount about me and I know none of you."

"You are a geneticist from India that published an interesting research thesis," said Hana, "have you been able to truly prove it yet?"

"Why do you ask," replied Chandra as he stopped at a red light, "who are you working for?"

"I work for myself, Dr. Suresh," replied Hana, "and you have not answered my question."

"Yes and no," replied the geneticist, "I have only really observed two instances of these powers first hand."

"How would you like to experience a third?" asked the woman.

"Your name did not appear on my algorithm," replied Chandra, "how did you discover your power?"

"That is neither here, nor there Dr." replied Hana, "but if we get to your flat I will be happy to inform you of the situations. There are some serious issues we will need to discuss."

"Would you mind informing me," he asked looking in the rear view mirror again.

"When we get to your place," said Hana as Suresh turned the car to head to his small apartment.

* * *

**Alexander Morova  
Antarctica **

"Drake!" shouted Alexander, "Stop! I think Robert has collapsed."

Drake turned around squinting through the white out conditions to look at his Russian collogue. They snow storm had fall upon them faster then expected and they seemed to have spent nearly 4 hours walking in what should have been 2 hour trek to base camp. Drake knew they were lost but didn't want to say so, in fear that uttering it would cause his team to panic. The temperature was cold, cold to the point that there were ice crystals on the face masks from the carbon dioxide they were exhaling, if one piece of skin were to be exposed to the air, it would mean frost bite and possibly death.

Alex held the tension of the cord that led to bright red parker of Robert Frosting. He kneeled and started to brush the snow off the body as Drake followed his line connected to Alex and stood behind him. Alex put his hand on Robert's chest to see if he was still breathing. There was no movement.

"How is he?" asked Drake

"I can not feel him breathing," said Alex, "I vill try to do CPR."

Drake put a hand on his shoulder, "Alex, no, it'll kill you both, the weather."

"He vill die othervise," replied Alex.

"We need to move on," said Drake as he moved to retrieve an all-purpose tool to cut Bobby off the line.

"_Nyet_," said Alex as he held back Drake from cutting the line; he struggled to obtain the tool from Drake and then threw it into the blindness of the storm to be covered by snow. He ripped off his hood so it flopped on his back and flew as a gust of wind blew it. He undid his protective mask and reveled a paled skin face that was tinged blue from the coldness and poor circulation. Alex had a prominent hooked nose and thin lips with short cropped black hair that was brushed forward. He leaned down and ripped off the hood and mask of Robert and started to blow air into his mouth.

He pumped the chest through the winter jacket a few times and started to breathe into Robert's mouth again, Drake pushed him out of the way to look at Bobby. He was completely solid ice; there was no warmth to his body. Drake turned to Alex and started to push him in the ice and snow.

"You killed him, you fool," shouted the team leader as they struggled in the ice not getting far as they were still tethered to the block of ice that was once Robert Frosting.

Alexander pushed Drake off of him, his suit was nearly fully off now, and the only winter item left was his parker that was half undone when Drake took him down. "Vhat is vrong vith you?" Said the Russian as he stumbled to his feet and threw snow at Drake, "you vanted to leave him to die!"

"It should have been you," said Drake as he went to punch Alex who side stepped and tripped him forcing him face first in the snow. Alex ripped off Drakes hood and started to undo the ski mask forcing the ice on his skin. Drake struggled for a minute and then stopped. Alex had not seen what had happened, but when he looked down Drake was just like Bobby, completely frozen through.

"Vhat the hell is vrong vith me," he shouted into the snow storm; he stood up and kicked Drake's body which only amounted in it sliding forward a little and pulling Alex onto the ice. He undid the tether connecting him to the bodies of his frozen colleagues, "why did you have to attack me, ve could have valked on!"

Alexander started to remove his parker, leaving only his thin shirt and snow pants on. He started to walk into the emptiness of the storm hoping for death to claim him. Hoping to be lost forever in the storm. He wanted to, needed to hide from the shame of his actions. He had removed Drake's protective gear and it caused him to freeze. Now all Alex had left to do was freeze himself.

* * *

**James Walker  
Los Angeles, California**

"I'm terribly sorry for having to call you in from work," said the school nurse as she opened the door to the infirmary, "but your wife was in a meeting."

"It's quite alright, I just wanna make sure my daughter is okay," replied James with a smile.

"It just seems to be a tummy ache," informed the nurse, "but she also seems rather tired and not her usual energetic self."

"That's a bit odd," concurred James as the nurse opened the door to where Molly was resting in a dark a room, "Hunny bunny, its Daddy… I'm going to take you home, 'kay?"

"Mmmm'kay," mumbled the little girl.

James scooped her up in his arms and threw her bag over her shoulder. He whispered a thank you to the nurse and signed his daughter out of school balancing her on his shoulder as she was fitfully resting. He put her in the back seat to lie down as he slowly drove the short way home. He flipped open his cell phone and punched a number on the speed dial.

"Dr. Green's office," chimed the receptionist, "how may I help you?"

"Hello, I'm James Walker," replied the father as he slowly parked in the drive way.

"Oh, Mr. Walker, how is Molly doing?" asked the receptionist.

"Not so well," he said as he looked in the back seat with a slight frown, "she's just had a problem in school, same symptoms as last time. Perhaps I can schedule an appointment this week, preferably tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Mr. Walker," said the receptionist as she checked the Doctor Green's schedule, "how does tomorrow at 3:30 pm sound?"

"I'll make sure I'll be there," replied Walker.

"Do give that dear girl, my best," said the woman, "good-day to you, Mr. Walker."

"Good-day," replied the man as he opened the back door and placed Molly on his shoulder. His phone rang loudly with the infamous Nokia chime and disturbed the little girl on perched on his shoulder making her wince. He quickly flipped it open and whispered, "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you, Jimmy?" asked the familiar voice of his boss Steven Kyle, "Linderman sent a representative that wanted to talk with you."

"My daughter is sick," hissed James into the receiver, "and Elizabeth was unable to pick her up."

"Well come back to the office now," stated Kyle, "or Linderman might walk."

"I'll see if I can get there after getting a babysitter," said James as he opened the door to the house, "why don't you go over the plans you have right now, you are the architect, I'm just the foreman."

"You are the local bureaucracy," said Steven, "you have a better knowledge of the GIS read out on the area."

"It is just a computer program, the files are saved on the hard disk," said a flustered James as he tucked Molly into bed, "you remember how to read them, right?"

"Not quite," replied Steven as he had left the program behind him during his many semesters of college and finishing school.

"I can't believe this," replied James sitting at the end of Molly's bed stroking the hair back of his baby girl, "my daughter needs me."

"This is your life," said his boss, "or should I use the past tense?"

James held his breath biting his bottom lip, "give me a few minutes, traffic may be rough."

"Good man, Jimmy," said Steven Kyle, "good man."

The phone went click and James had to control himself from tossing it across the room. He looked at his little girl and smiled slightly and tucked the covers up on her and put the stuffed bunny near her head. He leaned forward and kissed his little girls forehead, it was really warm. He started to walk out of the room and close the door.

"Daddy," whispered from the sheets, "daddy."

"Shhh, hunny," he said, go back to sleep.

"Don't go daddy," she said tiredly, "don't go."

James had to hold back tears as he made the coming noise his parents used to us when he was little and ill. He flipped open his phone and contacted their long standing babysitter to come over. Luckily she was free from her day in high school and was free to come over. James then left a message with his wife as well as written instruction on the refrigerator for the babysitter. James Walker went out his front door and started up his car to get back to work and meet this fellow that worked for the Linderman Group.

* * *

**Candice Wilmer  
Las Vegas, Nevada**

"Rodney, I'm not talking about this," said Candice as she was walking on the street.

"Whose is it, Candice," asked her partner.

"You wanna know?" she screamed in the phone.

"Yes!" replied the magician.

"No one's because it's getting aborted!" seethed Candice as she shut the phone and throw it in an alley. She walked into the free clinic that performed abortions, luckily she wasn't underage, being 26, she still felt nervous entering such a place. She sighed and sat in a chair waiting to be called over to the receptionist. She looked at all the young girls with stern looking mothers and fathers, the young women like her and the occasional young professional and wondered if they were there for the same thing she was. The head nurse called her over.

"Name please," she asked in a sterile voice.

"Wilmer, Candice," she replied and proceeded to list out her medical information and personal information as well as her reason for 'visiting'. She was given a number, like she was at a meat market. I medical meat market of self displayed insecurities and in some cases, poor choices. Now it was just a waiting game till her name was called.

* * *

**Chandra Suresh & Hana Gitelman  
Brooklyn, New York**

"Ms. Gitelman, you have yet to tell me your power," said Chandra as he put the kettle on the stove, "we have gone over my book, but you have yet to tell me your interests."

"Would you prefer if I show you my power?" asked the former Israeli Mossad agent.

"If you wouldn't mind," said the geneticist as he looked on intently as Hana sat behind Chandra's laptop computer that was in front of the nearly bare world map. She turned the screen to him as it started to run through his files. Documents, original working copies of his book and then the algorithm for his formula popped up. He stumbled to shut t down, but Hana was now in control and she easily cracked the code behind it and produced the some 36 names on the original list.

"Is this all you were able to calculate?" she questioned as she searched for last known addresses of the listed individuals and upgraded the program to list those that were deceased and the current status of those that were presumed alive.

"This is amazing," replied Chandra, "this is an ability that I had not even thought of. It's nearly a pure mixture of technological and biological."

"As it was explained to me by a guy name Bennett, it is the deciphering of radio, micro, and other such waves of data transfer," replied Hana as she uploaded a picture of Bennett onto the desktop, "watch out for that man, that's Bennett."

"I have…so many questions," he replied, "who is Bennett, why do I need to watch out for him, just…how?"

"Bennett is not of importance right now," replied Hana, "what is of importance is contacting those that are left alive to warn them and help them practice their powers."

"Practice?"

"Yes," replied Hana, "these powers are just skills and need to be perfected through practice."

"I see," said Chandra, "so how do I find more of these people?"

"Well, I was able to use your medical research code through Chennai University and access the DNA sequences from the restricted and protected blood samples donated to the Genome Project," replied Hana as she opened the spreadsheets for Chandra to view, "illegal, yes, but also needed. I've also done several searches for known information such as addresses and phone numbers, and in some cases email addresses. I will contact those through email and or instant messaging; it is up to you for the rest, okay Chandra?"

"You have completely overwhelmed my research," replied the geneticist, "there is no possible ways for me to contact all these people, some only have information in the form of names."

"Call them up, they say no, you don't go," replied Hana, "simple survey form, leaves us to protect and help only those that seek understanding. Others the wish to be left along can cope with their traits."

"And you couldn't?" replied Chandra.

"I had no choice," replied Hana, "I've got these few to contact, and I'll be in touch, okay?"

"Is this all I get?" replied Chandra.

"You'd said it's a lot," replied Hana, "so just mull this information over for a bit. I suggest this guy first; he seems the closest and might be the most helpful."

Hana handed a piece of paper to Chandra. Chandra read: Gabriel Gray and the address associated with a watch work and repair shop in the area. Chandra looked up and Hana had already let herself out. There was a knock on the open door.

"Yes," asked Chandra.

"Are you busy?" asked a lithe Caucasian girl with a black bobbed hair cut.

Chandra looked at the piece of paper and pinned it to his map on the region for New York, "no, not busy at all."

"Could you possibly help me move in? I just got in town today and there are several boxes of stuff," replied the woman, "oh, sorry. I'm Eden, Eden McCain."

"Eden McCain, I'm Chandra Suresh," replied the geneticist as he took on of her boxes, "pleasure to meet you."

* * *

**Alexander Morova  
International Research Base, Antarctica **

_Clunk…Clunk…Clunk…_

There was a knock on metal exit door of the station. Reena was visibly scared and reached for the fire extinguisher assuming the worst about one member of the expedition team with Drake. They had failed to check in, even after the storm had ended. There was no contact from any team member, not Drake, not Bobby and not Alex. They were all dead or there was a major fight and one died because in high tension situations like the isolation of space and that of Antarctica, it is likely to happen. As a joke, one of the video's that is present in the permanent video collection of the base is _The Thing_, a movie about desperation and paranoia in Antarctica during an alien infestation.

_Clunk…Clunk…Clunk…_

Reena opened the door and there stood shirtless, snow pant wearing Alexander Morova. He was shivering, ice crystals formed on his goatee as he leaned forward to walk in but fell down. Reena rushed to his body and dragged him to the beds and started to wrap him in blankets. A hot shower might have damaged his skin, and considering Alex had a history of bad circulation, this would not be good for his health. Reena thought to her self, questioning how Alex survived for so long with out succumbing to exposure.

"What happened, Morova," asked the Indonesian decedent native Australian woman as she gently slapped his face.

"Storm…co-old…absolute…zero," he said with his eyes closed as tried to hold on to consciousness.

"Where are the others?"

"De…dead…" replied Alex as he opened his eyes to looked into hers, "it…vas…vas…me?"

"You killed them, Alex?"

"Nyet…no…did….did not…vant….too," said Alex as shed a single tear that froze on his cheek.

Reena started to walk away, "I need…a drink," she looked back at Alex and the blankets started to form crystals and then became very brittle breaking in his hands and shattering on the floor.

"Vhat…es….happening…Reena," asked Alex as he tried to get up, where ever his hand touched it froze to solid ice.

Reena started to back away, "no…Alex…Stay back…"

"Help….me…" he pleaded as he inched forward.

Reena grabbed the fire extinguisher and hit him in the head with it knocking him out. He skin started to return to its regular pallor as he was unconscious, a gentle trickle of blood coming from his head. Reena ran over to Alex and gentle kicked his side to make sure he was down. She bent down and started to put blankets around him.

"Oh, Alex, what have you done?"

* * *

**Chandra Suresh  
Brooklyn, New York**

_The world is an ever changing place. Species rise and fall, within families. The efforts of Natural Selection have been subverted in the human context of the world. It is not the best genetics that win each other over, it is the actions we do or do not do that determine what kind of person we are. With the rise of variation among the population, Evolution is not always based on who is able to adapt better for situations, but how well we can live with the choices we make. _


	2. Imprisonment

Disclaimer: I do not own the Heroes characters, story lines, or ideas that were originally created by Tim Kring, et al. Any semblance, similar names, or character likeness is directly gathered from the NBC TV show Heroes and associated websites of such. This is not my material and the few items I truly own is the creative license to tell a story.

Heroes Episode 2: Imprisonment

**Chandra  
Brooklyn, New York**

_The brain is a magnificent organ that is the scientific center of what makes all humans essentially human. Love, fear, anger all exist in the brain. Historically, cultures have pointed to other areas of the body that lead to these ideas like the heart, stomach and hands. Whether the focus is a body part or even a power, it is necessary for humans to look into themselves, in this there center and try to find out who they are. Power does not dictate ability. Plato talked of an absolute justice and truth, but in the human spectrum of action he found most to behave in shades of gray._

* * *

**Candice  
Las Vegas, Nevada**

"Miss Wilmer," called out the nurse, "room 3 please."

Candice walked to the examination room and disrobed. She had never been a fan of getting naked, ever since she was a little girl and was constantly ridiculed by her mother and classmates for being overweight. She had for many years wished the weight off her body, in her high school years she started to slim down because of puberty and joining several sports. This trend continued, but so to did the negative feed back about being fat and ugly from her mother and classmates till after she gained her associates from a local community college and decided to move out to the west coast. She skipped from job to job until she found her self in Las Vegas and a degrading relationship with her boss.

Like her relationship with her mother, Rodney could only find faults with Candice's physical form. Candice looked in the mirror of the room and questioned her figure in the paper johnnies she was now wearing. The door opened and it was a woman doctor that walked in.

"Hi Candice," said the doctor as she outstretched her hand, "I'm Doctor Wade, what brings you here to us today?"

"I'm pregnant," said Candice.

"Okay, do you mind if we just do a sonogram to check on the baby and see how far along this is?" asked Wade as she closed the door and went over to a machine turning it on and reaching for some jelly, "please, just lift the johnnies up to so your stomach as you lie on the table. If you want, you can pull the paper sheets up to cover your legs and other regions. Keep in mind this jelly is cold, but it is easily wiped off."

Candice nodded and proceeded to lie down and follow the instruction of the doctor. The jelly was rubbed onto her stomach by the gloved hands of the doctor as she went around with the reader of the sonogram looking at the monitor. There was a quizzical look on her face as she looked at the screen. After a few minutes she turned it off with a sigh and started to wipe the jelly from Candice's stomach.

"I will need to take a blood sample," replied the doctor, "to check on some things."

"What's…wrong?" asked Candice, as she tightened the clothing around her.

"You do not seem to have a…you are not pregnant," said the doctor uneasily, "the test must have been a false positive which is common with some genetic…issues."

"Are you saying I…can't have kids?"

"Candice, I'll need to take some blood," said doctor Wade, "and then we can see where to go from there."

The doctor pricked Candice's arm to obtain the blood after tying the rubber cord and finding the vein. Candice looked in the mirror at the scene that was taking place. It felt so…generic. A story for the lifetime channel or Oprah but this should not be my life thought Candice. While she was relived not to be having Rodney's kid, not being able to have kids ever is something completely different.

* * *

**Hana  
Plane, Mid-Atlantic flight to Israel**

Hana looked as if she was working on a laptop in the first class section of the El Al flight from Logan International on its way to Israel. She had looked over the passenger manifesto that was wireless transmitted to a printer near the gates to see if their might be anyone recognizing her on the flight, an issue that would not be good for what she was about to do. All the people that were present, besides the air marshal that has become standard on all flights, were first time vacationers and tourists that felt they were fulfilling their religious duty by visiting the Holy Land as well as some individuals that seemed to be a business trips. Getting the seat on El Al was not that hard part for Hana, the hard part was not being disgusted by the hypocrisy some of the individuals were showing in thinking that going to Israel will make up for their abandonment of teaching religion, principles and morals to themselves or to their children.

"Hot towel," asked a male flight attendant as he was working his way through the first class seats.

"No thank you," replied Hana not even looking up from her laptop.

"Perhaps I could get you a beverage?"

"Jack and Coke," replied Hana as she continued to work searching through the net for information concerning the individual she was about to confront.

"Very American of you," replied the flight attendant as he returned with the drink, "one of the few things you picked up?"

Hana finally looked up at the flight attendant who was very machismo and could easily be described as a ten minute date from a discotheque. She shifted in her seat and presented her shelf as if at auction to the man, it had been a long time since she had been in the company of a man that wasn't trying to kill her or train her since that fateful night walking the perimeter around the military base she stationed at. She took the drink and started to sip at it.

"I'll put it on my account," he said as he stood there trying to make small talk and win her over.

"If you're trying to invite me to the mile high club," said Hana as she took a sip, "you should calm down a bit."

"So you're saying I have a chance," he replied.

"Right time and right place," replied Hana.

* * *

**Alexander  
International Base Camp, Antarctica**

Reena was pacing back and forth not knowing what to do. She had an unconscious that may have killed two people, on accident or on purpose, but the fact was he would still be facing criminal charges by the groups concerned with this expedition. Alex and she were not close friends, by any means, but they were still team mates and there was a bond between them, considering they had been living in the same quarters for a year or so. She looked at the satellite radio phone she would need to use to contact the shore for immediate retrieval. The mission would be seen as a failure no matter what action was taken.

She went over to Alex and put a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake; he stirred and moaned before coming to and trying to shoot up straight in bed only to be pushed back down again into his bed. Reena put a finger to her lips motioning him to be quit she got up and went to the mess hall and got a pre-made sandwich and a warm cup of coffee she had made that morning. She went back to the room to see Alex putting on a black t-shirt with the covers still on his lower torso. She gave him the sandwich and coffee and sat at the end of the bed.

"What happened out there," she asked quietly looking Alex in the eyes, occasionally flicking downward at the crumb that was caught in his goatee.

Alex looked down at the sandwich and put it on the plate and pushed it aside, "the storm rolled in just as the engine died so ve decided to valk it back to the base. Ve got lost and continued around until Robert dropped to the ground, I took a risk and opened his and my suit to give him CPR…but he froze through…like in absolute zero…"

"Like…when you came back to the base?"

"I…I…don't know," said Alex, "Drake he…started to fight with me, blaming me for Robert's death. Ve got into a struggle and I ripped off his parker and he froze like Robert…I didn't know vhat to do, so I took off my parker and shirt and valked into the storm to die," he started to shed a tear and wiped it away, "I vanted to die, I hoped to die…but I didn't. There vas no hypothermia, no frostbite, no nothing."

"You were not looking so peachy when you came in," said Reena, "you were blue all over, poor circulation or so."

"My family is known for poor circulation vhen it comes to cold," said Alex waving the comment away, "it is genetics. Vhat happened vhen I came in?"

"You don't remember," asked Reena incredulously, Alex just shook his head.

Reena took him into the control room to run the tapes from earlier, showing him what had happened when he returned to the base. Alex was reviewing the tape and furrowed his brow as she saw what he had apparently done. It seemed that his touch could bring objects to absolute zero, to make them completely frozen; he rewound the tape and watched again. And again.

"Is your family known for _that_," asked Reena.

"Most certainly not," replied Alex as he stopped looking at the tape and examined his hands; he started to think of cold…death…the storm…but nothing happened with his hands.

"Alexander," whispered Reena, "what…"

"If you tell the company then I vill be locked away for certain," he said as he sat down, "but ve need to tell them about Robert and Drake…even if it vas an accident…have the cameras been recording since I've been back?"

Reena checked the records, "the tapes need to be changed in the medical lab and the halls, but the entrance is put to tape and hard disk."

"Okay," said Alex as he thought, "I do not vant to become guinea pig or convict. I'll need to run…"

"To where, how? You're on Antarctica, not like there is a cruise ship leaving ever day," said Reena as she crossed her arms against her chest leaning against the main counsel.

"Vhen vill next supply transport be," asked the Russian as he continued to think.

"About a month," said Reena, "Drake requested some equipment…"

"If you make the call in earlier about the deaths…including mine…they will come to pick up the personal effects for sending back to family members," said Alex as he thought about it.

"But how do I convince them you are dead," said Reena, "when you are standing right in front of me."

"You make the call now and I vill leave the base," said Alex, "it vill not be that hard to sneak on board of the supply vessel, not to much crew vill be topside. They vill send my items up to New York for my cousin Nikolai, he is person I listed on medical forms."

"How are you going to get to America," said Reena, "from Australia?"

"How much cash do you have left?" asked Alex, "I vill go and check for any cash left in Robert and Drake's items."

"You're just going to buy a plane ticket," said Reena.

"Cash up front for one vay vould be like 2000 US dollars, maybe?" said Alex, "I have some 500 on me to barter vith the American base."

"Alex, I'll just order it online," said Reena.

"You can purchase open ticket online," said Alex perplexed.

"Well, no, but I can list it for a two weeks from now, that should be enough time," said Reena, "go get me Drake's credit card."

"You are villing to help me," said Alex, "even though you and Drake vere….close?"

"Drake and I never did anything," replied Reena as she was checking out flights online, "he…we are all close…and you are a colleague Alex, so yes I will get you out, but that is all."

Alex kissed her hand, "thank you, comrade," he said earnestly, "I hope to return favor one day. I shall go pack and get Drake's credit card."

"I'll check for international flights from all cities, though they will probably dock at Perth cause it is closer then Melbourne," said Reena as Alex returned with an all-purpose backpack that was filled with a weeks worth of clothing, several foods and a propane torch to cook some stuff.

"Here is card," said the Russian as he handed it over and donned a parker and face mask, "I vill hide close to dock under snow…they vill not question you…"

Reena looked at Alex, "good luck."

"Thank you," replied Alex, "god speed to you, Reena," the Russian then headed out the door and walked out into the cold sheet of ice that was the small costal shelf the research base was located and walked to the dock his outline disappearing into the snowy background.

* * *

**Hana  
Tel Aviv, Israel**

The plane landed with a jolt on the tarmac. Hana had already packed up her laptop and personal belongs in preparation for deplaning. The male flight attendant that she had visited the mile high club with passed by her seat, she had a small smile on her face in knowledge of their nefarious bathroom actions. She gently thumbed the handle to her laptop briefcase. What are you getting yourself into, thought Hana, how are you going to pull this off.

The plane started to let passengers off, the first class like all others were in the terminal before coach was even told to unbuckle. Hana collected her one bag from the baggage claim and then presented her passport for admittance into the country. The international attendant greeted her with _Bah-ruch B'o-eh'ech Hah-B'ah-yeet-ah, Doc-tor Gitelman_ and would be in English: Welcome home, Dr. Gitelman. Hana nodded her thanks and stepped out to the low light of dusk that was outside of Tel Aviv International Airport to be greeted a second time by two men in olive military uniforms next to a Jeep.

"Good evening, Dr. Gitelman," greeted one of the soldiers, "I am Private First Class David Green and he is Private Moshe Ramon, we are your transport to military base at Kibbutz Shakar."

Hana seated herself in the passenger side of the Jeep and looked over the two men, they were still young but seasoned, "how long will this take?"

"Maybe hour, depending on traffic," said Pvt. Ramon as he loaded the chain gun in back and rested against it, "there should be no interface. There are no refugee camps in region."

Hana nodded and rested against her laptop, she took out a personal display unit and pretended to do work on it, while she was still checking on the security relies at the military base, "so you two are stationed at the base?"

"Yes," replied PFC. Green, "you work for Mossad or for other agency?"

"You know not to ask that," replied Hana not looking at the two men.

"My apologies," said PFC. Green, "but your name was very well regarded at base for past week. Though, memory shows me that I and most of my battalion have not heard of you before."

"That means I'm doing my job well," said Hana, "and there would be no need for you to know about me. And I only am here to look over the two priority packages."

"Oh you mean the terro…" started Pvt. Ramon.

"Shut up," commanded PFC. Green as he steered the Jeep lazily, "people might be listening in."

"They are not," said Hana as they continued on their way, "let us just get there, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," said both soldiers in unison.

* * *

**Chandra  
Brooklyn, New York**

Chandra was standing outside of the glass window of a shop that read: Gray & Sons in a script font. It was an old fashioned watch and clock repair shop, one of New York's few vestiges of home grown and family business that started to disappear in the Bill Tweed reign of power and now epitomized by one block having 4 Starbucks one for each corner. It was even considered a rarity in Chennai, where Chandra had once lived, worked and raised a family, to own a clock that did not fit on one's wrist or worked without use of a battery. The real thoughts that went through Chandra's head were on the visit he had a week back from a mysterious woman that displayed the ability to capture and send electronic messages.

She had essential taken the 36 names, half of which were individuals that had died before reaching adulthood and gave him some 70 names of living subject and another 78 of deceased subjects. The information was overwhelming; this woman was a god-send and gave him the ability to contact more people, to give him a wide research range. And now, following her advice, decided to contact his first person in person in hopes that he can donate genetic structures that can lead to more people being discovered and a partner to help him. Perhaps this Gabriel Gray will be just that.

Chandra walked into the store with a copy of his book, _Activating Evolution_, in which he had written his contact information in hopes that Gabriel would find his work interesting and want to know more. He closed the door behind him, the sound making the lone occupant look at him. He was quiet looking man with parted black hair and a pair of glasses that had many magnifying lenses on it to examine small parts of larger working items. Chandra quickly scanned the room and noted the many clocks and watches displayed everywhere that led to the synchronized loud ticking and chimes.

"Can I help you," asked the mild manner man with glasses.

"I hope so, Mr. Gray," replied Chandra as he walked forward. Chandra saw the man lean in slightly.

"I can fix it," said Gabriel Gray as he reached for Chandra's gold wrist watch.

"My watch isn't broken," replied Chandra as he looked at the man quizzical.

"Actually it is," said Mr. Gray as he offered his hand to accept the watch.

Chandra took of his gold watch and handed it to Gabriel. He watched the subject with rapt attention. Gabriel held the watch up to his ear and listened to it tick. Mr. Gray turned to the Indian geneticist.

"The self tighten coil is loose," said the watchmaker, "your watch is running two seconds slow."

Chandra walked behind Gabriel to the other side of the work bench, "who did you know?"

"Just a talent I have, for the way things work," replied Gabriel as he popped the back of the wrist watch and began to tighten the self tightening coil, "how parts should go."

Chandra leaned in looking at a watch on the work bench, "that looks rather complicated."

Gabriel looked at it, "oh, that…the body's standard. But the parts, the insides, are German 1917…I've been working on it for 7 years," he scoffed at himself in what appeared to be a mixture of accomplishment and pity.

The watchmaker handed Dr. Suresh his watch back with a nod, "how much do I owe you," asked Chandra.

"Oh, please. Don't worry about it," said Gabriel as he looked away for a second before looking back at Chandra; he took off his glasses, "you didn't come here for the watch."

"I came to find you Gabriel," replied Chandra, "my name is Chandra Suresh, I'm a geneticist. I have a theory about human evolution and I believe you are a part of it;" he handed Gabriel his book, whom looked at the cover questioningly. "Read it; if you'd like to talk more, I've written my number and address inside."

Gabriel opened the cover and looked at the title page as Chandra walked away. Chandra kept walking till he got to the door and turned around; Gabriel looked like he had a question so Chandra waited a few seconds and received no comment from the watch maker. He walked out of the store to the street, the night was dark and there was a chill in the air. Dr. Suresh looked at his watch and thought to himself, hoping that Mr. Gray would take his work seriously and contact him. If not, Chandra would move onto the next name on his extended list from Hana Gitelman.  
**  
**

* * *

**James  
Los Angeles, California**

"It is so good to be this…informal with contractors," said the representative for the Linderman Group as he placed the tee into the ground with his golf ball.

Steven and James were standing next to their bags as they watched this company man set up for his shot. He was tall with bowl shaped graying hair that was parted off to the side. He introduced himself as Thompson; there was no first name and no title like Mr. or Dr. Just Thompson. James nervously glanced at Thompson's partner who did not seem to have a name and didn't no speak, even after a week of negotiations. Negotiations being a lightly used term considering Linderman Group basically footed the bill for all building supplies with Steven and James just supervising the ground work of the project. This made Steven happy, getting paid essentially to stand by doing nothing as the project is built, and James anxious because he felt there was something off about this exchange.

"Most certainly," said Steven, "so…do you have a family Mr. Thompson?"

"I rather not get into personal information," replied Thompson, "let us just keep this a cordial business exchange."

"Certainly," said Steven, the sycophant that he was.

James relaxed as he lined up his tee and ball after Thompson had shot a slice that landed in the fairway to the right. He looked down the course to see the flag on the green. He leaned down and plucked some grass and brought it up to his full height and let it go of it to see how the wind was blowing. Taking the measurements in his head and prepped his stance and gave two practice swings, stopping before he passed the ball. He looked out to the green again and swung, hitting the ball with a loud pop and watched it sail 150 yards to the left. He wanted to swear at the crappy swing when he heard something fall behind him like a bag of bricks.

James turned around to the black mute standing over the limp form of his boss, Steven Kyle. James was backing up getting ready to run, and then he felt a hard item in the small of his back. He turned around and saw Thompson, a small smirk on his lips.

"Don't try to do that, we just want to talk," he said backing away but keeping the gun leveled on James.

"Whatever you want, just don't kill me," said James pleadingly, "I have a wife and daughter...please don't kill me."

"I doubt my partner and I would be capable of such a thing," said Thompson as the mute black man moved in the side of James.

"What did you do to Steven," asked James, "why did you do this?"

"20 years and you've experienced more events that would have led to death than soldiers in war," said Thompson, "a few weeks ago, a detonator cap explodes and launches three nails through your sternum into your chest. Simulations conducted proved you should have died, but an unknown placement of organs is believed the reason. This condition had not been seen before in any of your examinations. A fall from a ladder that was 9 feet off the ground resulting in shifted discs that seemed to have been repaired in 3 weeks of physical therapy. Men have fallen from 4 feet and suffered broke their necks and died."

"What does this have to do with anything," asked James, his eyes flicking between the mute and the gun.

"10 years ago, you were in a car accident with several friends," continued Thompson, "you were driving. As you crossed an intersection, a drunken drive slammed into you on the driver's side causing your car to roll over for thirty feet before coming to a rest against a telephone poll. The drunk driver died, so too did your three friends…you were the only one to live."

"Why are you doing this," asked James, "what do you want?"

Thompson looked over at the mute and nodded, "Mr. Walker, do you think you're special? Because we do."

Walker looked over at the black man placing a hand on his eyes. He struggled to free himself from the grip. His consciousness slowly slipped away till there was just a blank space. James Walker's body went limp in the hands of the Haitian who nodded to Thompson and they began to create the cover story for the two men.

* * *

**Candice  
Las Vegas, Nevada**

"Candice, this is Dr. Wade from the free clinic on West Imperial Avenue," said the receiver from the phone, Candice could only mumble barely audible reply as she covered her self more with her quilt as she was cuddled in the bed; "are you okay?"

"Yea," she said faintly," she tightened her grip on the quilt, "so…so what did the blood test read?"

"I'm so sorry, Candice," were the first words from Dr. Wade, "the blood test shows that you have a rare genetic condition that does not allow an embryo to attach itself to the lining of your uterus. I'm so sorry, but it's a false positive…if you wish I'll be in my office from 7 to 4 this week. Please, stop by and we can discuss options for you for the future."

"Thank you, but I do not plan on staying here that much longer," said Candice as she clicked the receiver down ending the call. She turned back on the volume to the TV and continued to watch a soap opera as she wrapped herself tight in her quilt. She started to cry softly, whipping her tears into her sheets. She remained that way for an hour or so until there was a loud knock on her apartment door. She slowly got up and checked the eye hole to see the face of her boss and boyfriend, Rodney.

"Candice, we need to talk," said Rodney, "about…everything."

"Rodney, please go," she said through the door, "I'm not in the mood to be aggravated."

"Is…is something wrong," he asked concerned.

"Rodney, just go!"

"Let me see you," pleaded Rodney, he rested his forehead against the door.

Candice sighed and unlocked the door. She walked back, still wrapped up in her quilt as Rodney opened the door. He looked horribly, this hair was limp and lifeless, his eyes were sunken and he was pale. He looked at Candice and reached over to her, grabbing her shoulders.

"Are you okay," he asked earnestly.

"Yea," said Candice as she looked Rodney in the eyes, she turned away and sniffed, "no…but what do you care."

"Candice, don't do that," said Rodney, "I'm here for you…I've thought it through…and I'm here for you and the baby."

Candice broke down and fell to the floor griping the quilt and Rodney's knees. He leant down to her and put his arms on his shoulders. He kept on asking what was wrong and what the problem was. She looked up at him, tears in her irritated eyes her bottom lip quivering as she fought each breath with a sob.

"I've lost the baby," she said still crying, loud sobs being taken as she gripped hard against Rodney who tried comforting her. For all the problems in their relationship, it was hard for both of them to break apart from each other.

* * *

**James  
Unknown Location**

James woke up with a startle. He looked around but the room was bathed in a blue light that limited his vision. All he could see was the face of the man named Thompson in front of him. He tried to reach out and grab that face. James wanted to punch it into a bloody bag of meaty pulp. His arms and legs were restrained, as well as his head.

"No use," said Thompson.

"What did you do to Steven," he demanded, "where am I!"

"Mr. Kyle is fine, I assure you," said Thompson, "it is you we are more interested in."

"What do you want from me," asked James, "I have nothing, please…let me go…my family…my wife…my daughter…"

"You will be reunited with your family soon enough," reassured Thompson, "we just need to do some tests, now if you'll please relax we need to test your resting rate."

"Resting rate of what?" asked James confused, "why are you doing this."

"You are special, James," said Thompson, "now do as we ask, or we will have to force you…"

James struggled against the bonds that held him. He saw Thompson nod his head and the black mute from the golf course came over and placed a hand on his eyes and he fell back into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard before fully going under was an order from Thompson for the mute to return to Bennet.

* * *

**Hana  
Outside of Kibbutz Shakar**

"We have been awaiting you, Dr. Gitelman," said the Colonel of the base, "there was not much mentioned in the orders given to us."

"That is the proper way things should have been handled," replied Hana as they started to walk around the compound of the base.

"Then please, do enlighten me," said the Colonel, "my men and I are most curious."

"You know I can not do that Colonel," replied Hana, "the workings of Interpol are not for your knowledge."

"So you work for Interpol," asked Colonel and then continued, "it seems I have lost bet with my men."

"I should not have said that," feigned Hana, "I am on strict orders that no one knows that I am here or the connection Interpol may have with these men, do you got that Colonel."

"We request that you take armed guard with you," said the Colonel, "these terrorist are most unusual and dangerous."

"I do not need guarding, Colonel," replied Hana, "I have read their dossiers and as long as the protections that were put up by the Mossad are in place, I will be fine."

"Doctor, I insist," replied the Colonel.

"And I must decline," said Hana forcibly, "now if you would to Mr. Aswan and Mr. Halebi's respective cells."

"If you insist," said the Colonel, "what would you like it to read on your obituary?"

Hana and the Colonel continued walking till they got to the farthest north region of the military compound. Beyond the compound there was nothing but a large desert, if one were to escape from the detaining center they would either have to travel a far distance in extreme conditions or face against the whole military compound. Options, options, options thought Hana to herself. They entered a sterile concrete building where Hana received a visitor pass and a radiation meter to pin on her jacket lapel.

"If it turns any color but green, you are in danger of radiation poisoning," said the radiologist.

The Colonel took her through the doors to the holding station for detainees. Abu Aswan and Amid Halebi were separated in two different cells; the reason for this as given by their dossiers was because Abu Aswan, the engineer from Cairo, was emitting radiation. To have them together might mean they both would both develop radiation poisoning. As of currently, neither had developed any illness.

Hana was let into a room that was lit from the bottom floor; she turned and asked for the recording equipment to be turned off. The Colonel agreed, after some prodding, and switched off the recording equipment. A door on the far side was buzzed open and in walked a light skinned Arabic man with a thick dark beard and long unkempt hair that gave tribute to his many months of imprisonment. His eyes were a dark piercing black and his nose was bulbous, he smiled lightly showing several white teeth which was homage to his wealthy upbringing.

"What do I owe this pleasure of visitation too," asked Abu Aswan as he walked forward, his legs and arms all chained together with bright blue shorts and tee-shirt on.

"Mr. Aswan, I represent a group," started Hana Gitelman, "that has an interest in you."

"Are you a lawyer," he asked, "or just another group looking to squeeze information out of me?"

"Mr. Aswan, I do believe I have information you would like," said Hana getting and interest from the man, "for both you and your friend Halebi."

"We are not terrorists," he said earnestly leaning forward, "we were visiting family."

"You are not terrorists," said Hana, "but both of you are special."

"What do you mean special?"

"You have a gift, Mr. Aswan," said Hana, "you and Mr. Halebi both have special abilities."

Abu Aswan lifted his hand from the table and held them in front of himself and Hana and screwed his face in concentration. A bright red light started to emanate from his palms and slowly spread to his whole hand a trail of smoke coming from the metal handcuffs on his wrists. He looked up at Hana and smiled, the doors to the interrogation room opened up and three Israel soldiers entered with metal batons drawn. One struck Aswan in the head knocking him out and the others began to beat his body into submission. Hana Gitelman stood up and protested this action until the Colonel came in shouting orders at the soldiers to remove the prisoner to his cell.

"What in hells name were you thinking?" Yelled the Colonel, "he almost killed you!"

"And you think it's proper to return the favor to him," said Hana, "I will interview him again tomorrow, and I do not want any interruptions then!"

"You must have a death wish," replied the Colonel.

"Why else would I be here," muttered Hana, "if I wasn't willing to put some up to risk."

"What was that doctor," asked the Colonel.

"Where is my bunk?" said Hana.

* * *

**Chandra  
Brooklyn, New York**

_Power does not dictate ability, one chooses to accept or deny power when they know about it. The few that may not know can be seen as living in an ignorant bliss, but as we have learned from Plato there are those that search for absolutes. And those proponents and opponents will force people to chose. Who then are the choice makers and what are the motives? For Plato it was like explaining light to people that had lived in caves all their lives. The few that accepted carried on his tradition and those that didn't, convicted him of impious behavior and corruption of the youth. A philosopher lacks a scientist's heart of stone, but makes up for it with his mind._

* * *

A/N: The scene between Chandra Suresh and Gabriel Gray was taken from the episode: Six Months Ago. It is the best word for word transcript I could come up with from reviewing the episode. All property of that scene belongs to Aron Coleite, writer of the episode Six Months Ago. 


	3. Boundless

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Heroes from NBC studios or the creative minds of Tim Kring, et al. I am in no making money or any form of profit by the production of this FanFic.

* * *

Heroes: Emergence of Humanity  
Episode 3: Boundless

Chandra Suresh  
Brooklyn, New York

We are constrained only by the limit of our imagination. The mind can be a playground for those inspired few. Or it can be a prison that is all encompassing. Through trials and tribulations, prisoners of the mind can become free, but first they must realize that they are trapped.

* * *

Alexander  
Waters outside of Perth

The inner hull of the ship was warmer now that they had made it from the cold waters around the Antarctic to the western waters outside of Australia. The stale recycled air was starting to bother Alex after a week on this ship. He new that Reena was most likely on one of the upper decks in a room with a warm bed, but since he was considered dead, he did not have that luxury. He opened a can of cold spaghetti-o-s and reached in his boot to pull out his spoon, now warmed by the heat of his body. He noticed a rat slowly creeping up to him seeing if it could get some food.

"Otva'li," he said the rat making a shooing motion with his hand continuing in Russian, "Nyet, this is my food. Go get your own from the kitchens."

The rat tried to get closer to the can, Alex picked it up and turned away, "Po'shyol 'na hui, mu'dak," he seethed as he ate the cold food as he felt the ship slowly being turned and the light scraping of metal on metal as it glanced the dock lightly. The echoes of ropes being latched and having it towed into a lock for maintenance meant that they had reached Australia, just in time thought the Russian. The ticket pick up expires soon, he thought looking at his watch chewing some of the precooked rough dough of the spaghetti.

The rat saw its opportunity and ran up to the can and dunked its head in for a drink and skewered several spaghetti-o-s on its teeth before starting to run away. Alex looked at the can in disgust and threw it in the bag he had for garbage breathing softly, "'suka," glaring as the animal ran away between a crevice created by cargo crates. He gathered his bag and all the clothing he had taken with him and crept quietly up the stairs. He doubt there would be anyone on the lower levels, seeing as this was a return trip the crew would be making way for docking. He walked the lower levels till he got to the stern of the ship to the same balcony and porthole he had squeezed himself through in the middle of the night a week ago. There was already a large rope affixed to the stern mooring it in the lock, unfortunately it was too far away for Alexander to grab a hold of so he dived the ten feet into the water.

The splash alerted everyone on board who quickly rang the single for man overboard, the crew ran to the stern to spot who had fallen off. The crew looked at each other as they collected to the stern, seeing that anyone that should be top side was and none of them were in the water so it had to be a worker from the docks. They started to lower the tender in hopes of getting to the man in time, but the dock workers had already thrown him a live preserver and a rope to guide him to the lock ladder.

Alex swam and the started to climb up the ladder to get the top as the dock workers were waiting for him. He threw over his bag, thankful it was water proof so all his items were dry, the clothes on him though weighed him down tremendously. He tried to stand up as a group of people gathered around him. Derr'mo thought Alex, this is not what I need, I should have thought this out a bit more. A person put a blanket around his shoulders, turned to them.

"Had a bit of trouble staying on the dock, mate?" asked a long bearded man with wrinkles around his eyes and jean overalls with a green rain slicker to protect from the oceans' spray.

"Da…er…yes," he said trying not to slip back into his native tongue.

"Alright you lot, clear out," commanded a person with a yellow rain slicker on and a badge pinned to his coat, "I said clear out."

The group moved away slowly, even the man that had given Alex a blanket. The Russian offered it back but the man refused saying he, Alex, needed some warmth. Alex thought the water was fairly warm but he stifled a sigh and kept the blanket, mopping up his hair. The official approached him.

"What in god's name were you doing there," he said pointing to the water, "catching a mid-day swim for fun?"

"I'm sorry if I did something wrong," apologized Alex, his accent making the official's eyes shift from the incoming boat to Alex.

"Do you work on the docks here?" he asked, seeing the backpack that Alex had at his feet.

The investigative eyes of the official made Alex look down to his feet, trying to hide his bag behind his feet, "err…Maybe?" he replied.

"I'm going to have to take you into the port authority," said the Australian official, "stowaways and illegal immigrants is something we look down upon here, mate. I'm going to have to ask you to turn around."

Alex complied and turned around thinking to himself as he was cuffed with old metal hand cuffs. I need more time to make a plan, he thought as the official picked up his bag and took him by the shoulder, "I…need to go to…bathroom."

"Alright," said the official, "but I'll be in there with you so you can't escape."

The walked over to one of the buildings that lined the dock. As they got inside, Alex was thinking the whole entire time on what he was going to do. The officer opened the door and pushed him dropping his bag at the sinks, the officer checked all the stalls for occupants, they were alone. He pushed Alex to the middle stall and closed the door; Alex sat down and was just thinking. He needed to escape the cuffs he thought, as he touched them with his finger tips. The metal started to grow cold and Alex became fearful, hoping another episode like a week ago was about to happen. The links of the cuff became brittle and hard, snapping apart to form two bracelets on his wrists.

Alex looked in amazement at his hands. They were bright blue and glowing, the air around them condensing into a liquid vapor and then almost like a snow. There was a knock on the door.

"Hurry up in there," ordered the guard.

Alex rebuked himself, you will have enough time to get know this ability later he thought. A plan final came to mind, though it was not one he was keen on…but he needed to escape.

"Officer," he pleaded through the door, "you need to get these cuffs off of me…I can not reach."

The officer came to the stall door and opened it; Alex grabbed the man by his jacket and pulled him into the stall. Alex pinned him to the toilet in a sitting position, one hand on his mouth, the other on his right hand which had reached for a weapon of some kind. Alex forced that to the back wall, freezing the hand the back pipe of the toilet. The official's eyes screamed out in pain as his lips were now frozen shut.

Alexander leaned back and put a finger to his lips making the motion for the guard to be quite. He started to reach with his left hand to this holster and Alex wrestled him to get a hold of it and forced it to the wall of the stall freezing it on the plastic molding. The guards eyes where fearful with a tear dripping from the corners of each, he leaned forward trying to force himself free. Alex pushed him back, putting his fingers on his lips again, the guard's lips and teeth frozen together, unable to make a noise. There was a sound as the door to the bathroom opened and another man walked in. Alex quietly waited as the new man took a stall to the side of where the Russian and officer were.

"Mate, you got a roll to spare," asked the other stall, quietly Alex took his roll and handed it under the stall partition, "Thanks, you're a life saver."

Alex grimaced as he walked out of the stall leaving the officer; he picked up his bag and took out a knitted cap and new jacket so people from the dock may not recognize him on first glance. He opened the door to leave as he heard a loud thump like a bag of potatoes hitting the floor. He looked back and saw a bleeding stump that was connected to a yellow rain slicker, blood pouring out of it onto the floor.

"'tckyo zu ga 'lima?" swore Alex his first instincts making him walk forward to help the officer; the guy in the other stall yelled and stumbled to open the door of his stall causing Alex to panic and run out of the lavatory, "B'lyad," sighed Alex as he walked slowly away from the scene, his bag slung on his shoulder and a tear coming out his eye that froze on his cheek. He walked to the street and hailed a cab to take him to the airport, the whole time he stole quick glances into the driver's review mirror asking himself one question. What have you become Sasha?

* * *

James  
Los Angles, California

James woke up with a stir. The darkness that was hazed by the pollution and light that filled the Los Angles skyline caused his eyes to blink several times as he tried to gather about his surroundings. He was in a car, his SUV from the looks of it, with the keys in the ignition. He yawned and turned them, causing the engine to rumble to life and the lights to turn on. The headlights illuminated the sign that proclaimed the name of the construction company he worked for. Must have had a late night at work with the boss, he thought. He popped the automatic into reverse and backed out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Should I be driving, he thought as he rolled down the windows to get a cool breeze to keep him awake. There was a vibration against his legs; he fished into his pocket trying to maintain the car from swerving on the road. It was his cell phone in his pocket, hit flipped it open.

"Hello," he said.

"Where are you?" the voice belonged to his wife, "I almost called the cops!"

"Relax, Lizzie," replied James, "I'm on the highway getting back home from the office, I must have fallen asleep at work."

"I've called your office for the past day," she said, "I even went down to the work site, no knew where you were."

"Wait…I was gone for a day?" he said as he took the exit to get to the suburbs where his house was.

"Don't…don't you remember?" she asked with concern.

James thought hard about the past day but could not remember anything. He couldn't even remember getting in his car, "Liz, we'll talk about this when I get home, okay?"

"Okay," she said a stern ending as she hung up the phone.

James sighed as he concentrated on the drive home. His internal monologue continued as his eyes gazed at the lines in the road and how they blended together. What happened, he asked himself his mind trying to focus and find out what had happened to him. An oncoming light caught his attention. Idiot, seethed James as he looked up to his left at the oncoming traffic lane, turn your Brights down. The opposing driver did not have the ability to read minds and kept on their way with the bright halogen lights used for night visibility on, but the damage was already done.

Without realizing it, James had turned the wheel slightly to the left as he looked up, the wheels stated to orient themselves as he started to leave his lane of traffic for the guard rail. The change of surroundings caught James' attention as a car in his left blind spot honked the horn in warning. He turned to the right immediately, spinning the stirring wheel hand over hand, over compensating too much and hurtling into the right lane. In and instant, James' dark green SUV smashed into the rear driver's side of a red sedan. The red sedan spun around, horizontal within the traffic lines as James' SUV flipped onto its side sliding across another lane of traffic, sparks trailing after it.

It started to slow just as a second sedan that swerved to avoid the primary collision hit the SUV, crushing in the roof and the sedan flipping over. The roof of the sedan now lay on the driver's side of James' SUV; he shook his head and looked around his car. He was alive, pinned to the seat because of his seatbelt and the airbag had been deployed but in the rush of the accident he barely felt a thing. He reached forward, a pain ripped through his chest causing him to swear; he worked through the pain and turned the engine off to prevent any fires. He reached down and unbuckled himself, gravity forcing him to fall to the passenger side.

There was a brief shine of light from where the sedan had hit the roof of the SUV. James crawled over broken glass and pebbles of asphalt to get to it. The whole was big enough to crawl through, but he had to avoid the bottom jagged metal shard. He removed himself from the wreck, his foot kicking at the roof of his car as he flipped onto his back and laughed. A light was shined into his face, a figure standing over him. There was no sound, just a ringing in James' ear, the face of the officer leaned down with a fresh drizzle starting to silhouette his vision. The officer's lips were moving as he waved his hands over to an unseen person. James leaned up a little and grabbed the officer's collar to pull him close to talk.

"I need to call my wife," he said hoarsely, the words scratching his throat and his chest aching, the officer turned back to James and nodded as he waved someone over again; James' eyes focused on the officer's hand and he tilted his head back, his eyes closing with the light drizzle on his face as he disappeared into darkness.

* * *

Hana  
Military base outside of Kibbutz Shakar

Straightening the dress suit she wore and the military identification card hanging from her left lapel, Hana walked into the interrogation room again. She looked at the mirrored wall behind her and pressed the button for the intercom. She once again told them remove all audio recording from the room and send in Mr. Aswan.

"You will be seeing Mr. Halebi first," said the Colonel over the intercom, "we do not wish to expose the detainees to radioactive poisoning. Very humanitarian, do you not think so, Dr. Gitelman?"

"I wanted to follow my laid out schedule," said Hana, "but I will accept these…humanitarian…efforts you have put through."

"Thank you, Doctor," replied the Colonel as he buzzed the security door as Mr. Halebi was escorted out; there were lights projected from the floor and ceiling making the room a bright white with no shadows.

Hana placed on her eyes a pair of sunglasses she had been informed she needed. Halebi was also light skinned, his facial hair was sparse and light, making him look more like a college student that hadn't shaved for a week. The dark bags under his eyes, which were squinting from the light, added to the college kid look by way of late night study sessions and multiple pots of coffee or other caffeinated beverages. He was also on the short side; around five foot seven inches tall, with no defined trim or muscle to himself. In the pure sense of the word, he looked like an academic and not a combatant that the Mossad had given him the title of.

"Hello," greeted Hana as she stood and offered her hand, Halebi looked at it and sat down in the chair silently, neither shaking nor acknowledging her, "I am Dr. Gitelman," she looked at the guard detail and nodded for them to leave, "I have talked briefly with Mr. Aswan, and he seems a bit excited for the details I am about to confide in you."

"Excited enough to be flogged, tortured and starved," stated Halebi in the hoarse voice of one that found no need to talk any longer.

"I do not like the conditions for you two at present," agreed Hana, "this is why I would like for you to trust me," Halebi said nothing, just gazed into Hana's eyes coldly, "which may be hard as I am Israeli, or I should say was…there is a higher calling for people like Mr. Aswan, you and myself, do you not agree."

Amid sat back, his hands still in his lap, his head looking for the proper words to use, "you wish to exploit us. Typical."

"You have misinterpreted my actions," she replied, "There are others out there like you and Mr. Aswan. I myself have experienced what you are going through…and I want you to escape before you forget who you really are."

"How can I forget," calmly replied Amid Halebi staring into the depths of Hana's eyes, "I am a terrorist; I will always be a terrorist because this is what is expected from my kind, is it not?"

"You are only who you say you are," she replied, "you can see yourself as a terrorist or a freedom fighter, a freedom fighter for all those special individuals that are out there ad incarcerated because the world fears us."

"Do they fear you," he asked calmly, "or do they allow you pass easily through their neighborhood. I am not a champion of any people, I am me."

"You are not a terrorist, these actions you do are not your fault," said Hana.

"These actions are not that of the Jewish God, the Christian Jesus or even from the holy words of Allah spoken by Mohammed," said Amid Halebi in an even voice.

"How about Mendel, Darwin or Suresh," she said with a furrow of her brow, "why give up on life when you can learn to live."

"There is more to life then living," replied Halebi, "and what ever you wish to call it, power or damnation; it has been a burden for me."

"What if I told you there maybe a cure," she said as she took out a folder, Halebi finally stirred from his depressed slouch, "but it would require you to take action."

"I would give my right arm to be rid of this curse," he replied, an emotion in his voice for the first time that night.

"The answer for the cure is in New York City," said Hana as she slid a file containing the biography and review of Chandra Suresh to Amid, who took his eyes from it.

"New York City is as close to me as returning to my family," he replied.

"It is there for you to take it," she said with a smile on her face.

He tilted his head to the side, "what re you proposing…"

"For Mr. Aswan, you and myself to use our powers for escape," she said, "and then for you to receive a cure."

"Is this cure for real," he asked skeptically as he leaned forward to look over the file and tapping the picture of Suresh.

"It is in work right now," replied Hana, for once being truthful, "but by the time we all get to America, it will be ready."

"What must I do then," said Amid Halebi, "how will I get out of here."

"You will follow my plan and do as I say," replied Hana, "and we will all get out of here together, do you get me?"

"What will I have to do," he said again.

"You will have to guide Mr. Aswan and myself through the shadows," she replied with a knowing smile that scared Mr. Halebi.

* * *

Chandra Suresh  
Brooklyn, New York

The power of the mind is the most underrated ability of human kind. It has constricted many people just as it has freed them from reality. The real truth that is sought is not from a heart of stone, but a free and accepting mind. A mind without bounds.

A/N: It has been a while since I updated this fic, so I hope this is a welcomed short and sweet chapter. If you wish for a translation of Alex's Russian, I will be more then happy to give it. Thank you for reading, please Review!


	4. Homeward Bound

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Heroes from NBC studios or the creative minds of Tim Kring, et al. I am in no making money or any form of profit by the production of this FanFic.

* * *

Heroes: Emergence of Humanity

Episode 4: Homeward Bound

Chandra Suresh

Brooklyn, New York

The human is like many other species. We seek the common, the known, and the familiar. It is the familiar that usually enables our perspective of the world. The great philosophes of the eighteenth century knew it was true and remarked that the formation of the individual was through family. It was this view that the philosophes interpreted from Aristotle led to their foundation of education, emotion, and government. For the eighteenth century the family was the center of life, and needed to be returned to on occasion.

* * *

Hana, Amid Halebi, & Abu Aswan

Rafah, Gaza Strip

It was not the most ideal setting in the world. The Gaza Strip had the notoriety of being one of the most densely populated areas in the world. That was the reason for Hana's choice, more faces meant more ways to blend into the crowd. The safe house in Rafah was also chosen because it was the only border crossing into Egypt. While there was a peace treaty between the two countries, they exercised little civility. With Halebi's shadow walking ability, the passage would be easy; but if the passage need to be taken during the day than it would be easier at an established passage than a wall.

Amid Halebi adjusted the small black tie that was around his neck as he rolled up the sleeves to his new white shirt. He buttoned two tone vest, and wiped the pleat in his pants down as he sat in the safe house near Hana, redoing his Oxford shoes. He looked a lot better out of an orange jump suit and in more befitting his status as an academic. The bags were still under his eyes, the dullness a testament to his recent time in an Israeli prison.

Abu Aswan had shaved off his beard completely, unlike Halebi who just trimmed, and had his longer hair framing his roundish head. He to made himself presentable in a blue button down shirt and tan Khakis. He stood near the wall, looking at his new flat mates, wondering how long this odd combination would last.

"Now what, Hana," asked Halebi, "how do we get to New York, it's not like we can take a plane right there."

"Well, I've just finalized the creation of several passports for us," she replied as she was doing data transfer in her head, before her eyes a computer screen almost seemed to appear, "we'll be leaving through Egypt in a few days, after we pick up the passports, commercial flight. So be prepared for crowds." The last comment was directed at Aswan more than Halebi.

"And after we get to New York," asked Aswan.

"I'll introduce you to Dr. Suresh, he will be most interested to see you."

* * *

Alexander

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York

Alex stepped out of the airport to the multitude of taxies waiting to make a wage. His Aquiline nosed guided his way to one of the only other men with a similar nose leaning against a taxi. He was a lot more stocky than Alexander and held himself in a slouch. His five o'clock stubble was thick and his hair was as dark. The familial resemblance was only noticeable when they were in close proximity.

"_Brantanik _Nikolai," said to his cousin as he embraced him with one arm and kissed his cheek in greeting, "_kak dela?_ (How are you?)"

"_Harash-O, a u tiby-A_? (Fine, and you?)" he asked in return, his voice more energetic than Alexander's, "please. brantanik, it's been ages since I spoke the mother tongue, let's continue in English."

"What has America done to you, Nikolai?" Asked Alex as he pushed his rucksack into the trunk of the taxi, "if only our parents could see us now."

"I think they would be proud of you, Mr. Professor," replied Nikolai as he opened the taxi, winking, "get in the back, make it look like I'm actually taking a fare you freeloader."

"You're parents would be proud too, Nikolai," replied Alex as he sat down and closed the door, "you are here, living the American dream."

"Get a doctorate in physics and electromagnetism from Moscow University and spend my time driving cabs," replied Nikolai as he started the engine, "I should be doing research for NYU or teaching at Hudson, but no I drive this junk."

"It could be worse," said Alex as he looked at his gloved hands, "just remember that, Nikolai."

"Speaking of worse, there is a stop I need to make," Nikolai stated as a matter-of-fact.

* * *

James

USC University Hospital, Los Angeles, California

Elizabeth and Molly Walker were at the bed side of James. He had only suffered minor injuries from a totaled SUV. It was a miracle he had survived. The police office on duty reported to the paramedic that James not only survived the initial crash, but a secondary one that had collapsed his roof. The only outward sign of injury was bruise from the seat belt across his chest and abdomen. The police officer also commented that all James had requested was a phone to call for Elizabeth.

She smiled as James looked at her with kindness in his eyes. Their little girl, Molly, was holding her fathers index and middle fingers, her stuffed white bunny in the other hand. They were making idle talk. James and Elizabeth were slightly scared with how well their daughter took to hospitals, _most likely because of all the times she's been_, they thought collectively. The ER doctor walked in and asked to see Elizabeth outside of the enclosed area. James nodded and continued to hold onto Molly.

The doctor looked at Elizabeth, "we ran you're husband's blood work and we're hoping you might clarify something for us. It seems that were a minimal amounts of Ketamine in his system. Ketamine is a general anesthetic used for humans and animals. It's recreational use can be referred as Special K, K-Horse, K-Hole, and Hurricane Katrina. Would you suspect your husband of recreational use of a controlled substance?"

Elizabeth was shocked, the doctor was telling her that James had used a substance illegally. She was barely listening to the doctor as he talked about it being a possible reason for the accident. Nor did she pay attention when he said that he had to report it to the insurance company that would clearly want to do an investigation and most likely find James Walker at fault. She stared at the man she loved, the father of her child, years they had together with one thought, _who is this James Walker I am with now?_

* * *

Candice

Las Vegas, Nevada

Rodney and Candice were outside at an open cafe talking over cups of coffee. Ever since the news from the OB/GYN about the false positive, Rodney and Candice had become closer. It was only a week, but for Candice things were notably different. Rodney seemed more calm, less prone to yelling at her, and more likely to spend positive quality of time. It was new and refreshing, and took Candice some time to get used to it.

She walked into the cafe, instantly feeling a pair of eyes on her. She turned in the direction she thought it came from. Facing the doorway was a middle age man with pepper gray hair who seemed to pay close attention to his newspaper. She walked to the counter to get refills on the coffee, her attention was drawn between the server and the man in the corner. She held up her index finger to the server telling her to wait a minute as she walked over to the man in the corner.

She noticed now that his hair was more bowl shaped and parted to the side like a crooked salesman; he looked directly at her, "good day, Ms. Wilmer, please seat."

"Why are you looking at me," she asked, "how do you know my name? Who the hell do you think you are, mister?"

"Ms. Wilmer," replied Thompson with a large smile, "please, take a seat. I won't keep you long from your boyfriend, Rodney."

Candice was in shock that this man could know so much about her. She turned around and walked to the portico to get Rodney. As they made their way back into the cafe, the strange man was gone. Rodney looked at Candice as if she was crazy and recommended that they go home.

* * *

Alex and Nikolai

New York City

Nikolai pulled up to a bar, parking the taxi. He leaned back and told Alex to get out and join him inside for a glass of beer. Alex said he'd prefer vodka as he got into the bar. Nikolai followed him, both cousins sat down at the bar and ordered. They were served promptly, Alex looked over at his cousin.

"So why are we here," he asked in his accented English.

"I need to pick up a package to deliver," he said as he drank his cheap American beer, "it is a side business I have in the US. I am delivery boy."

Alex was suspicious but knew not to pry into his cousin's affairs. He turned back to his glass to drink as someone brushed by him. He was a rather robust man with several chins and matching jump suit. He hugged Nikolai like family and whispered into his ear. Alex turned to watch the two, the other man walked Nikolai to the back behind a curtain that was hanging in a doorway. Nikolai returned minutes later with out the man and motioned for Alex to follow.

Alex got up and followed Nikolai, noting the back pack slung on his shoulder now. They got back to the taxi, got in, the bag being tossed in the back as the vehicle was turned on.

"What is it you have to deliver," asked Alex as he pointed a thumb to the back.

"Don't know," replied Nikolai honestly.

"Don't know? Who are these guys asking you to haul things like a mule?" Asked Alexander concerned for his cousin.

"Their the movers and shakers of New York," replied Nikolai, "they are part of the family."

"They aren't relatives of ours," said Alex as he looked out the window.

"I do some work for the Peppinos," said Nikolai as he kept driving, "they're an Italian family, very connected."

"You're working for the mafia now?" Asked Nikolai, "what has America done to you, cousin?"

"It's made me a survivor," answered Nikolai, "all I do is survive."

* * *

Chandra Suresh

Brooklyn, New York

We all feel a strong need to return home. When one is in dire need of someone to be there for guidance, family is the first thought. When one wishes to share a happy moment, it is usually family that is relied upon. Humans look to family because they feel it doesn't change ultimately, and we are disappointed when see those changes. However, it is also the changes we see in ourselves that disappoint us. But there is one thing that always remains within family, even when downplayed, and that is unconditional love.


End file.
